


Christmas in Strousbourg

by TheWeaverofWorlds



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Minor Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Very fluffy, minor Montparnasse/Eponine, minor onesided enjolras/marius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeaverofWorlds/pseuds/TheWeaverofWorlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Grantaire is asked to drive a stranger home for the holidays, he doesn't know what to think. As horrible weather hits, the two are forced to spend more time together than planned. Soon Grantaire is falling head over heels for the other. But when some unforeseen events happen will Christmas be ruined? Or will love conquer all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas in Strousbourg

**Author's Note:**

> To my dearest Claire. Merry Christmas.

“Are you Grantaire?” The voice came from the door of Grantaire's dorm room. The man turned to find himself in the presence of the handsomest man he had ever seen. Golden curls framed an angular face, with philosophic grey eyes set evenly beneath a wide, expressive forehead. The man before him looked younger than the other students at the university, but in his entire demeanor he held a wisdom that Grantaire was unfamiliar with. 

 

“Er, yeah that's me.” Hastily he shoved all his charcoal sketches into a pile attempting to tidy his general appearance, only managing to smudge the dark coal along his nose.

 

“Combeferre told me to find you. Is it true you are driving to Strasbourg for the holiday?” the stranger queried making no attempt to enter the unkempt living space of the artist.

 

“Yeah I am,” Grantaire answered still tugging at his baggy knit sweater, in the hopes of at least looking decent.

 

“Mind if I catch a ride with you? Usually I'd have Marius take me,” started the stranger. “But he's spending Christmas with his girlfriend. And if we're both heading there...might as well kill two birds with one stone. If you don't mind.”

 

“I wouldn't mind, a friend of Combeferre is a friend of mine,” Grantaire laughed nervously. 

 

For the first time since meeting him, the stranger gave what appeared to be a hint of a smile. “Thanks.”

 

Grantaire watched the other turn to leave, before realizing he had forgotten one crucial bit of information. “Excuse me. I'm sorry to bother you, but you never gave me your name.”

 

The blond gave a small smirk. “The name's Enjolras. But I suppose we will be getting to know each other very well quite shortly.”

 

Grantaire just nodded trying to keep his jaw from dropping. “I suppose so,” he coughed out.

 

Enjolras let out a merry laugh that set Grantaire's heart pounding. “I'm sure we'll have a grand time.”

 

A week passed, and soon exams were upon them. Grantaire found that he had no time to meet up with his friends as he had to finish his portfolio. He didn't see much of Enjolras either, whom he later learned was majoring in business, which would explain why he had never met the man before. They may be at the same university, but they were attending two very diverse branches of it. 

 

Of course Combeferre later had thanked him upon finding out that Grantaire had said yes, but the other wouldn't reveal much about Enjolras, and that bothered Grantaire. But not for long, once exams had started he spent most of his time in the studio or in bars. He never truly managed to get rid of the paint from beneath his nails or the dark circles from under his eyes, but he progressed finishing piece by piece. He had hoped to get twelve pieces done to pick up some extra credit, but he realized at the rate he was going he'd never get them all done.

 

Another week gone by, and Grantaire had handed in his portfolio. For better or worse he was done. He had one day left in Paris, before the dorms closed, so in the morning he ran out to run some last errands. When he returned a little after lunch, he set about packing what he would need to take home. His roommate, Jean, had already left for break and the room seemed deadly quiet. Grantaire was startled from his reverie by a knock on the door. It was already four o'clock, the time he and Enjolras had agreed to meet at. He padded over to it in his thick socks, and pulled it open to reveal a trio of friends. In the front was Enjolras, looking like a cat in water, a betrayed look as well as slightly irritated. Standing behind him was a tall man with his arm around the shoulders of a beautiful girl. Was everyone, but him, at this school so attractive? Wondered Grantaire.

 

“You must be Grantaire!” Exclaimed the man on the left. He seemed in jolly mood, the paragon of the season. “It's such a pleasure to meet you. You're from Strasbourg right?”

 

“Er, yeah,” Grantaire looked to Enjolras for help.

 

“Grantaire, meet my friend Marius. He can get a bit enthusiastic at times, but he means no harm,” Enjolras said dryly.

 

Marius elbowed his friend. “Well isn't somebody grumpy today. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the Christmas Market. I'm sorry that I won't be there this year, I always love to walk around.”

 

“I'm sorry as well,” Grantaire said. “I heard that it's going to be quite a sight this year.”

 

“Ah well, can't be helped. I'll be in England spending time with Cosette's family this year,” Marius beamed at the petite woman under his arm. Enjolras made a face of pure exasperation, as if he had heard this story a million times these past few weeks. It took all of Grantaire's self control to keep a straight face.

 

“Well I'm sure that'll be lovely,” he replied genially.

 

Marius grinned. “It sure will! Although we might have time to visit Strasbourg if we take the TGV.”

 

Enjolras coughed. “We better get started. I heard it might snow, and I would hate to get caught in traffic.”

 

“He makes a good point. My car is just outside the dorms,” Grantaire said grabbing a hold of the few bags he was taking.

 

“This is it old pal. See you next year,” teased Marius. Cosette giggled at her boyfriend's lame joke.

 

Enjolras only rolled his eyes. “Yes well, whatever. Let's get going, Grantaire.”

 

He grabbed the other's hand and began dragging him down the hall away from the grinning coupled, much to Grantaire's chagrin. “They seemed nice,” Grantaire offered.

 

Enjolras snorted. “Please. They are so damn sickeningly cute. It's disgusting.”

 

Grantaire laughed, causing the blond to turn back and smirk. They made their way out into the cold air. Parked in front of the dorm was Grantaire's small VW. They loaded bags into an already half full backseat. Upon seeing what was in the bags Enjolras raised his eyebrow.

 

“Really? Eight bottles of wine? Are you sure you should be driving?”

 

Grantaire blushed. “They're for my family. It's a rare vintage.”

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I'm sure~”

 

Grantaire started the car as Enjolras got settled. Above them the sky was becoming a darker grey, and the wind held more of a bite. Lazily Enjolras played with the dial of the radio, searching for something to listen to. Grantaire focused on the roads, careful to not get misdirected among Paris' many crooked roads. Disgusted by the white noise Enjolras switched off the radio and turned to his travel companion.

 

“So I suppose we will have to settle with something as old fashioned as talk. I hope you don't mind.”

 

Grantaire turned to his passenger and said, “not really. What do you want to talk about?”

 

Enjolras gave a wry grin. “What are you majoring in?”

 

“Art.”

 

“Any kind of art in particular?” prodded Enjolras.

 

Grantaire was unaccustomed to people wanting to know more about what he did. Although he got plenty of support from his family, his friends never showed much interest. They were always too preoccupied with their own majors, and whatever those entailed.

 

“Portraits. I like drawing, or painting people doing things,” Grantaire answered.

 

“What kind of things?”

 

“Boxing, dancing, gymnastics. Active things...but I also like people at rest,” Grantaire frowned. Recently his professor had challenged him to draw a person reading, or sleeping. Every time he tried to hand it in he was unsatisfied with the result. The forms looked forced, the muscles constricted and tense. “Or rather I wish I could draw people doing everyday things, like listening or reading...”

 

Enjolras seemed to understand since he didn't ask any more questions on the matter.

 

“And you? I heard you're trying to get a degree in business?”

 

“Mm.”

 

Grantaire frowned. “Do you not want one?”

 

Enjolras turned away to look out the window. “It is not my choice.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“My father, the arse that he is, decided that as his only son I must take over his company,” Enjolras sneered to the world outside the glass pane.

 

“And that's not what you want.”

 

“I would not wish my fate on anyone. To be forced into the confines of a business which survives by breaking the backs of it's laborers goes against every moral principle I have. But to refuse would mean being financially cut off.” Enjolras sighed in resignation. He began again, as if talking to himself. “I have often considered refusing to bow to my father's demands, but I can't do any man any good if I am penniless.”

 

“Enjolras, what is it that you want to do?” Grantaire asked softly, almost hesitantly.

 

When his companion turned on him, a bright light shone from his eyes. “I want to fight for the people's rights. I want to overcome the obstacles of society so that the people will have a say in what is being done to them.”

 

“A lawyer. What's so wrong with that?” asked Grantaire.

 

“Nothing. Except to my father. All he cares for is keeping the money in our family.” The light that had shone so bright moments before, was gone. Grantaire's eyes were met with those of one dead.

 

As they drove on in silence, the traffic began to build up. Soon they were moving mere feet at a time. Cars covering every meter of the road. The sky darkened to a somber shade, and the first few flurries began to flit down upon them.

 

“It looks like we may be stuck here for awhile,” sighed Grantaire.

 

Enjolras frowned. “I've always hated traveling.”

 

Grantaire decided to ask something that had been bothering him since he had first met the blond. “Why didn't you just take the TGV? It could of gotten you there in half the time.”

 

If Enjolras had looked annoyed before, now he looked downright pissed. “That is none of your business.”

 

Grantaire put his hands up in defeat and turned his attention back to the road. They continued on at this pace for another hour, a heavy silence filling the car. At around six, the traffic stopped completely. Grantaire bundled up and went to ask what was going on. He returned, red cheeked and frozen, moments later.

 

“Apparently because of the snow there's been an accident. They hope to have it cleared up in an hour or so, but until then we're stuck.”

 

Enjolras sighed. “It can't be helped I suppose. Pass me some of the chocolate.”

 

Grantaire nosed around a few of the bags pulling out kinder bars, as well as a bottle of wine.

 

“Are you sure you should be drinking that? We're only stopped for about an hour,” Enjolras said. “Besides I thought you said those were for your family.”

 

Grantaire grinned. “It'll be fine. I have a high tolerance for this. Besides, what they don't know won't hurt them.”

 

Enjolras watched with disgust as Grantaire took a large swig of the wine. He wasn't usually for drinking, but he began to feel claustrophobia and sorrow chew away at his insides, and he knew he needed something.

 

“Mind if we share?”

 

Grantaire gave him a look. “You seemed against it just moments ago.”

 

Enjolras replied with a sad smile. “I felt sane moments ago.”

 

As if some understanding passed between the two men, Grantaire handed him the bottle. Enjolras took a sip, and then another. A warm tingling sensation filled him, spreading from his cheeks to his toes. A sad smile graced his lips. In silence, the two men shared the bottle hoping for a miracle. No miracle came, an hour passed, and still they had not moved.

 

“I think we need to turn off the car,” muttered Grantaire. “Otherwise we won't have enough gas to get to Strasbourg.”

 

Reluctantly Enjolras agreed. After that a chill began to seep into the vehicle, slowly making its way into their bones. Not even wine could keep it out. Shortly after that, all their things were unpacked, and each of them were wearing three sweaters, coats, extra pants...all in the hopes of keeping warm. The only sound was their teeth chattering.

 

“Merde. Merde. Merde.” Enjolras repeated this mantra under his breath.

 

Grantaire looked over at the blond, and couldn't help but smile. The other's cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, half from the cold the other half from alcohol. He was bundled up all the way to his nose, his curls quivering as he shivered.

 

“Er, Enjolras?”

 

“What is it Grantaire?” the other asked impatiently.

 

“I'm not a scientist, but maybe we could conserve body heat if we sat together?”

 

Awkwardly the two of them moved everything in the backseats to the floor, and made a nest of dirty sheets being taken home to be washed. Grantaire sat his legs spanning the width of the car, and curled in between his legs was Enjolras. Just like a cat, Enjolras curled himself into a ball and clung to Grantaire. By this point, with two bottles empty they were both pretty tipsy. Well in Enjolras's case he was flat out drunk. Without really thinking, Grantaire began to run his fingers through Enjolras's curls. The blond let out a small mewl of approval.

 

“Hey Enjolras?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“Why didn't you take the TGV?”

 

“Combeferre didn't think I should be traveling alone for the holidays. He wanted me to travel with someone looking out for me,” Enjolras slurred.

 

“So he told you to ask me.”

 

“Mhm. He said you were the kindest person he knew...going to Strasbourg.”

 

“I'm touched,” Grantaire laughed.

 

Enjolras just snuggled closer. “It's so cold.”

 

Grantaire nodded. “They've got to get this cleared soon. Why don't you get some rest for now.”

 

Enjolras didn't say a word, but it wasn't long before he was snoring softly. Grantaire continued to run his fingers through the golden curls. As he pulled the blankets closer around him he caught the scent of Enjolras on the maroon sheets. It smelled like ginger and cinnamon. A warm scent. Grantaire couldn't help but bury himself deeper into the blankets and Enjolras' scent. He could feel the blond shivering against his chest, it seemed so pitiful, and Grantaire wanted to do anything he could to stop it. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Grantaire wrapped his arms around the slumbering form of Enjolras, pulling him close.

 

Suddenly there came a loud rap from the window. Grantaire practically jumped. He turned to see a policeman asking him to roll down the window. Grudgingly Grantaire rolled the car's window down letting in a blast of ice cold air.

 

“Excuse me, sir, but you can go now. You and your boyfriend are holding up traffic.”

 

“He's not my-” but it was too late. The officer had moved away. Only then Grantaire realized that all the cars in front of them had begun to start up again and move. Reluctantly Grantaire shook Enjolras awake. “They said it's all clear now.”

 

Enjolras nodded blearily, and untangled himself from Grantaire. Soon the car was filled with heat and they were warm again. A sensation they had missed bitterly. They had a lot of driving to catch up on. It was almost nine, and they had about another four hours ahead of them.

 

“Damn this weather,” muttered Grantaire. 

 

The snow was beginning to fall more steadily in thick white clumps. They could barely see the taillights of the car ahead of them. Outside the entire world was just a mess of snow and ice.

 

“At least I didn't tell my father when to expect me,” Enjolras laughed bitterly. “Not that he'll be wanting to see me anyway.”

 

Grantaire began to see why Enjolras didn't drink, because when he did he was downright cynical. “Come now, it's Christmas. Of course they want to see you!”

 

“You don't know my dad.” Enjolras stated.

 

“And your mother?”

 

“Dead.”

 

“Oh I'm sorry.”

 

“It's fine. It happened a long time ago,” Enjolras said dully.

 

Grantaire frowned. “It's not fine. Just because it happened a long time ago doesn't make it alright.”

 

Enjolras shrugged apathetically. “Don't feel sorry for me. I can't stand it when people pity me.”

 

Grantaire nodded. “I know how you feel.”

 

“Really? And how could you know how I feel?” sneered Enjolras.

 

Grantaire let out a sigh. “I suppose I spoke hastily. I don't know how you're feeling Enjolras...but I know that when others offer to buy me food just because they think I will amount to nothing as an artist, well I get pretty mad. I know it's silly, they are just trying to show they care. But I can't help it.”

 

Enjolras remained silent. Outside the car they could hear the window whistling down the highway. Flurries of snow were blown directly at them. Grantaire couldn't help but worry about the weather, but he chose not to voice his fears. Instead he kept his eyes on the road. Enjolras fell asleep, and the car fell deadly silent. Soon Grantaire felt sleep tugging at his eyelids, there was no helping it. The wine had made him feel relaxed, and the silence was doing nothing to help. He turned on the radio and dialed it to a Christmas station. Softly he hummed along with the music. He was so caught up in the music that he didn't notice Enjolras watching him.

 

“You like Christmas.”

 

“Sorry for waking you,” Grantaire apologized hastily.

 

“It's okay. Why?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Why do you like Christmas so much?” Enjolras asked. 

 

Grantaire's smile faltered. “It's Christmas!”

 

“Yeah, but why do you like it?”

 

“You mean you don't?” asked Grantaire.

 

Enjolras shrugged. “I've never understood the hype around it.”

 

Grantaire frowned. “I've always loved Christmas. It's because of my mom, she always enjoyed the holiday. We were never rich, but she always made sure that our family had a good Christmas. The week leading up to it, we spent time baking cookies and decorating the tree. Or we went to the Christmas market. I have so many fond memories of walking around under the lights, taking in the sounds and smells. And on Christmas eve we always go to church. There's so much to love about Christmas. Have you never experienced any of this?”

 

Enjolras had been spellbound by Grantaire's words. “No. When I was young we always had a fancy Christmas dinner, father would invite all his business partners, and I would have to wear a suit. I hated it.”

 

“You've never decorated a tree?”

 

“We had maids for that,” Enjolras shrugged.

 

“What about the Christmas market?” Grantaire asked. “Surely you walked around it.”

 

Enjolras looked down at his hands. When he had been little he had begged his mother to take him, but she had been too busy organizing fundraisers for charities. And as the years went by, Enjolras kept asking only to be denied. Until one night his senior year he sneaked out, just to walk around under the lights. When he returned home he had found that his parents had called the cops, he was then grounded for the entire week leading up to Christmas. “I went once.”

 

“What did you think of it?” Grantaire asked eagerly.

 

Enjolras let a small slip onto his face. “I loved it.”

 

Grantaire grinned. “I knew it. You don't really hate Christmas.”

 

“I never said I hated it,” protested Enjolras. “I just said I didn't get why everyone loves it so much.”

 

Grantaire smiled. “I have so many fond memories of Christmas. One year I was in the Nutcracker, that was fun.”

 

“You did ballet?”

 

Grantaire blushed. “A bit. When I was very young, my mom thought it would be a way to expose me to culture.”

 

“You were in the Nutcracker though?” Enjolras sounded impressed.

 

“It wasn't anything special,” Grantaire protested. “It was a kids' version.”

 

Enjolras still looked impressed. “Doesn't matter. Is that why you like drawing dancers so much?”

 

Grantaire nodded. “They have good form, and now how to make good lines. Plus ballerina's are the most beautiful creatures in the world. I dated a few, back in high school.”

 

“Ah,” again Enjolras looked down at his hands, ashamed. It was stupid of him to be asking all these questions.

 

“How about you? What secret hobbies do you have?” asked Grantaire.

 

Enjolras shrugged. “Nothing nearly as interesting as yours.”

 

Grantaire persisted. “Come on. No need to be shy. I just admitted that I did ballet when I was little. Nothing can be more embarrassing than that.”

 

Enjolras rubbed his arm. “I played the piano for some years. My mother hoped that I could be one of her charities' highlights after dinner, but I never liked the songs she chose for me.”

 

Grantaire listened in interest. “What did she pick?”

 

“Things of a deathly nature, fugues. I don't know why anyone at a charity dinner would want to listen to that, but that's what she chose.” Enjolras said with a dry laugh.

 

“What did you prefer to play?” asked Grantaire.

 

“Anything my mother didn't like practically,” Enjolras confessed. “I particularly like ragtime, but my mother always turned her nose down on me for that.”

 

“Why? That seems super hard to play!” exclaimed Grantaire with a surprising amount of fervor.

 

“She always thought it was too common, not fancy enough,” Enjolras explained.

 

“Perhaps you could play some for me one day,” said Grantaire.

 

Enjolras looked at his new friend carefully. “I would like that.”

 

Each fell silent as they began to think about their childhood passions. In the background they could hear Bing Crosby crooning away some winter songs. Outside the world had fallen completely silent. Snow muffled the sounds of traffic, and even the wind seemed to be silent. Enjolras pulled a blanket over his legs, and watched the windshield wipers flick away snow.

 

“Tell me, Grantaire, are you dating anyone?” Enjolras asked boredly. He wasn't one for gossip, but he felt that he should at least get to know his companion better.

 

Grantaire gave him a lazy smile. “Nope. My last girlfriend dumped me few months back. Accused me of being a useless drunk.”

 

Enjolras smirked. “Aren't you?”

 

Grantaire laughed. “I may be drunk, but I wouldn't say useless. Besides we weren't right for each other...she was much to caught up in her studies to pay me much attention.”

 

Enjolras nodded.

 

“And you? Is there some lucky lass on your arm?” teased Grantaire.

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “No, never will be.”

 

“Come now, you're plenty attractive. I'm sure some girl would-”

 

“It's not that,” laughed Enjolras. “I'm gay. That doesn't bug you, does it?”

 

Grantaire shook his head. “Why should that bug me? So what if you're interested in men.”

 

“Wish my father could see it like that,” Enjolras gave a dry laugh.

 

“You haven't told him yet?”

 

“Nope. He wouldn't want to know anyway,” Enjolras said, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

 

Grantaire frowned. He never had known someone with such a horrible family life.

 

Enjolras' detached laugh sent Grantaire's nerves on edge. “Sorry if this is depressing the shit out of you.”

 

Grantaire forced a smile. “Don't be stupid, Enjolras.”

 

Enjolras laughed. “You sound like my dad.”

 

Grantaire frowned. “I didn't mean that. I'm sorry.”

 

Enjolras shrugged. “I think I knew that.”

 

“You should sleep that liquor off.” Grantaire noted.

 

Enjolras nodded, curling tighter under the blankets. Grantaire turned the radio up just a bit and continued to hum along to the music. He smiled, over at the slumbering form. Am I falling in love with him? He wondered. He certainly is handsome, and God he's smart and funny. Grantaire shook his head. There was something about Enjolras that told him that he was already in love with someone else. Why do I always fall the unattainable ones? Wait am I admitting that I've fallen for him?

 

“Merde,” he murmured. He knew the answer to his last question. It was a most definite yes. Grantaire let out a sigh. He knew that Enjolras needed him more as a friend for the time being, so that is what he would be. With all the resolve in him, Grantaire promised to remain that, a friend. They drove on in silence, and pretty soon Grantaire began to recognize his surroundings, their longer than planned drive would soon be over. And that very thought made Grantaire's gut tie itself up in knots. He doubted he would see Enjolras again once he dropped him off at his home. Marius would probably give him a ride back, and then at uni they would both be so busy. Grantaire's shoulders slumped at the thought.

 

Suddenly Grantaire noticed something he hadn't seen before. The fuel light had blinked on, and he wasn't exactly sure when that had happened. “Merde!”

 

Enjolras blinked awake. “How long was I out?”

 

“About half an hour,” muttered Grantaire.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“We're out of gas. I'm not sure how long we've been running on empty, and I'm not sure how much further we'll be able to go.”

 

“Merde.” Enjolras repeated.

 

“How far out are we from Strasbourg?”

 

“I'm not sure,” Grantaire frowned.

 

Ahead of them they could see the warm lights of a cafe they was still open. Luckily the car rolled to a stop as they pulled into the parking lot. Trying to restart it, they found it was out of gas.

 

“Looks like this is our stop,” said Grantaire.

 

Enjolras nodded. The snow had covered the sign, and it wasn't until they entered that Grantaire knew where they were.

 

“Grantaire, is that you!?” the girl working behind the counter cried.

 

“Eponine! I haven't seen you in months! How are you?” Grantaire asked walked over to the counter. He sat on one of the stools, and a moment later Enjolras joined him.

 

“I'm great! But what are you guys doing out in this storm?”

 

“The dorms kicked us out, and we're driving home. Unfortunately there was an accident, and we've run out of gas,” Grantaire explained.

 

“Where are we?” asked Enjolras.

 

“Welcome to Cafe Musain,” Eponine said with a smile. “Name's Eponine.”

 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Enjolras nodded. 

 

Eponine blushed. “Grantaire you always picked such flirts!”

 

“He's not my boyfriend 'Ponine!”

 

She laughed. “Yeah right.”

 

Enjolras blushed. “He's right, we aren't dating.”

 

She blinked. “Oh my god. I'm sorry. Grantaire!”

 

Grantaire retracted his arm as she slapped him lightly. “What?”

 

“You made me look like a fool in front of your friend,” Eponine cried.

 

Grantaire shrugged. “Sorry, I didn't think you'd assume he was my boyfriend.”

 

“Mind if I get some coffee? I'm getting a horrid hangover,” Enjolras moaned.

 

Eponine nodded. “Sure thing.”

 

She busied herself as Grantaire began to unwrap some of his many layers.

 

When she returned she said, “on the house.”

 

Enjolras nodded appreciatively.

 

“What are you still doing open at this hour?” Grantaire asked.

 

Eponine shrugged. “My manager offered extra pay, thought I could pick up a little extra cash so I can get gifts for Gavroche and Azelma.”

 

Grantaire smiled, remembering all the times he had played with Eponine's younger siblings. “That's sweet of you.”

 

Eponine smiled. “They deserve a real Christmas just as much as anyone.”

 

Enjolras looked mournfully at the girl before him. If only he had had such a sweet older sister when he was growing up. Perhaps he wouldn't have been so messed up by his parents. “You seem like a nice girl Eponine. It's a shame I never got to meet you until now.”

 

Eponine blushed. “He really is a charmer.”

 

Enjolras smirked. “Don't worry, love. I'm gayer than most people think.”

 

Eponine laughed. “I was a little worried that Montparnasse would have to beat you up if he found out how much you're flirting with his girlfriend.”

 

“You're still dating him?” asked Grantaire slightly surprised.

 

“Mhm. He's changed quite a lot since you knew him,” Eponine said.

 

Grantaire shrugged. “Well if he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you 'Ponine.”

 

She smiled. “You two are welcome to stay the night. Montparnasse will be picking me up in an hour on his motorcycle, but I can leave the lights on and everything.”

 

“No thanks, we can walk,” Grantaire said.

 

Enjolras spat out his coffee. “What?”

 

“Well we're only about half a mile from my house. I had no idea we were so close, until I realized this is Cafe Musain. I figure we can walk, and in the morning we can get a tow trunk and get some gas and drive you to your house,” Grantaire explained.

 

Enjolras looked wary, but his friend seemed so sure that he couldn't say no. “Sounds like a plan, then. Thank you for the coffee, miss.”

 

“Please call me 'Ponine.” Eponine smiled. She could feel the chemistry between those two, even if they were denying it.

 

“Sure thing.”

 

“I hope we can see each other over break,” Grantaire said hugging his friend. 

 

Eponine nodded. “Take care of yourselves! It's pretty dangerous out there.”

 

Grantaire shrugged. “It's no big deal.”

 

Almost as soon as they were out the door did Grantaire realize what a fool he had been. The snow was piling itself into his boots, the thick flurries going down his collar. He was grateful for the extra layers. He had estimated it to be a half an hour walk, but in this weather it would probably be more.

 

“So Enjolras, you never told me where in Strasbourg you live,” Grantaire said trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

 

“I live on the other side of town, closer to Germany,” Enjolras explained. 

 

Grantaire nodded. It explained why they had never met before. “Is that where Marius lives too?”

 

“Yeah, same neighborhood,” Enjolras said gritting his teeth.

 

They walked a bit more in silence. “Why did Combeferre want you to travel with someone?”

 

“I told you, he didn't think I should be traveling alone,” Enjolras growled.

 

“What's the real reason?”

 

“This is a long walk, Grantaire. I'm sure you don't want to have me be pissed at you for the entirety of it.” Enjolras shot back.

 

Grantaire persisted. “Tell me.”

 

“I was in love. But I got rejected. I've struggled with depression before, and Combeferre knew that going home to see my father always sets me off. He didn't want me to try and kill myself this Christmas.”

 

“And were you thinking of it?” Grantaire was afraid to get the answer.

 

Enjolras glared at him. “Yeah. As a matter of fact I was. But why would you care? You don't give a shit about me. We barely know each other.”

 

Grantaire stopped where he stood, waited for Enjolras to catch up to him, and then promptly slapped him. “Don't you fucking dare pretend that we don't know each other, Enjolras. We spent hours cooped up in a car together. So don't think I didn't listen, because I listened to every damn word.”

 

Enjolras looked into Grantaire's eyes. “You don't know me. You wouldn't want to know me.”

 

“That's not true,” Grantaire said quietly. “You're an amazing man, Enjolras.”

 

Enjolras snorted. “I wish he saw me like you do.”

 

“Marius.”

 

Enjolras' eyes widened. “How did you know? Did Combeferre tell you? Is that why you've been so kind, because you pity me?”

 

Grantaire grabbed Enjolras' arm to prevent him from storming pack to Cafe Musain. “No. I could tell from the way you acted when Marius and Cosette came with you to my dorm room. You were in love with him?”

 

“I have been for almost as long as I knew him,” confessed Enjolras pulling away. They continued to walk on. Grantaire allowed the blond a few moments to collect his thoughts before speaking. “Marius has always had a certain grace about him. He's so good looking, and funny....I was in love. But he only saw me as a friend, nothing more.”

 

Grantaire blew out his breath in a cloud of warm air. “You deserve someone better than that, Enjolras. Excuse me for saying so, but he seems like an arse.”

 

“What?” Enjolras glared at Grantaire.

 

“You're way to clever for him. Besides, if he can't see how amazing you are then he's blind. Enjolras, you want to make the world just, you play ragtime, and you've lived this long. You're so strong, and brilliant, and God if Marius doesn't see that, then he doesn't deserve you.”

 

Enjolras peered at Grantaire in the orange light cast from a street lamp. “No one has ever spoken to me like that.”

 

Grantaire looked at his feet realizing he might have given too much away about his own feelings. “I used to think I was worthless. Nobody thought I could make it as an artist, not really. All my relationships ended in tragedy, mostly me getting dumped...I didn't know what I could do to feel accomplished. But then I spoke to my mother. She told me that I just needed to be seen in the right light. I don't expect it to happen overnight, or anytime soon. But she made me realize that I matter, and that I deserve someone who knows that.”

 

Enjolras gave Grantaire a sad smile. “You're mother sounds wonderful.”

 

Grantaire gave a small smile. “She is. I can't wait till you meet her. She'll love you.”

 

Enjolras smiled, and they continued to walk through barren wasteland. They remained silent, each lost in their own trains of thought. The snow continued to come down, not quite as heavy as before, and the world lay like a blank canvas before them. Grantaire felt as if this could be a new start for his friend. Enjolras certainly deserved it.

 

Enjolras began thinking more about Marius. He realized that anytime they had tried to hang out, Marius had always found things that took a higher priority. It hadn't been intentional, but they were both busy. Ever since Cosette came along, what little time Marius did have was quickly eaten up. Whenever they hung out together, Enjolras was always the awkward third wheel. He soon realized that maybe Marius wasn't quite so perfect as he had imagined. That he had only been in love with an idea, one that could never be a reality.

 

“Grantaire?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Thanks,” Enjolras said between shivers.

 

Grantaire smiled with a slight air of confusion. “Sure, Enjolras.”

 

They continued their walk, and soon enough they came upon a house lit with lights. In each of the windows was a candle. Both were relieved to see it, by this point they had become frozen. Grantaire could no longer feel his toes, fingers or nose. His legs were stiff, and his teeth chattered in his skull.

 

“This is your house?”

 

“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “I should warn you, my parents can be a bit hyper at times...”

 

Enjolras nodded. “After all my mother's charity galas I know how to deal with people who are very different from me. I'm sure it'll be fine.”

 

As soon as they entered the house, the were greeted by a giant golden retriever. The dog parked once, tail wagging madly.

 

“Lamarque, who's there?” A woman called from the other room. Upon rounding the corner, the woman's face lit up. “Grantaire! You're home! I was so worried. And who's your friend?”

 

“Hey Mom,” Grantaire said pulling his mother into a hug. 

 

“You're freezing! I didn't hear the car. Don't tell me you walked!” she exclaimed.

 

“It's fine, we ran out of gas around Cafe Musain. So we decided to walk the rest of the way. Mom, this is Enjorlas. Enjolras, meet my mother, Adrienne.” Grantaire said making introductions. “I hope it's alright for him to stay until the roads are cleared and I can drive him home.”

 

“Of course!” Adrienne exclaimed. “You two will catch a cold just standing here. Please go take hot showers. Enjolras let me show you where the guest bathroom is. I'll heat up some left over soup while you warm up.”

 

Enjolras led down the hall, and promptly he took a hot shower. The water felt great on his chapped skin. He felt the water change several times, as he knew that Grantaire was doing the same. He stood under the stream of hot water until it ran cold. As he stepped out of the shower he began to contemplate the problem of he didn't have any clothes, but someone had already thought of that. Lying in a neat pile were clean boxers, sweat pants, and a warm looking flannel shirt. Enjolras dress and made his way back to the kitchen. Already seated was Grantaire, in a worn knit sweater. By his feet sat Lamarque. Adrienne was puttering around the small kitchen heating up some soup.

 

Only then did Enjolras take in his surroundings. In the living room he saw a large tree, lovingly decorated. Garlands decorated the living room, and the stairs to the second floor. In the kitchen were special Christmas towels and potholders, and scented candles made the room smell like vanilla. The lighting was low, and warm...everything was so different from how it was at his house.

 

Minutes later came the sound of feet on stairs, and Grantaire turned and saw his father approaching. The man had dark hair like his wife, and shared the same face structure as his son. But Grantaire definitely had Adrienne's eyes.

 

“Grantaire! You're finally home,” the man said.

 

“Hi Dad.”

 

“Who's your guest?”

 

“This is Enjolras. I was giving him a ride home, but we ran out of gas.” Grantaire explained.

 

“Pleasure. My name's Laurent.” The two men shook hands.

 

“You have a lovely home,” Enjolras said politely.

 

Laurent and Adrienne beamed. “You are too kind!” Grantaire's mother cried.

 

“Thank you,” his father said modestly.

 

“I'm sorry for any inconvenience I may be causing you this holiday,” Enjolras said bowing his head. “It was so thoughtful of Grantaire to drive me here, and now I'm afraid he has to put up with me for a bit longer.”

 

“Nonsense! You're welcome here as long as you need to stay,” Adrienne cried setting down two bowels of soup.

 

Enjolras looked up at Laurent, still unsure. The portly fellow just gave a smile. “My wife seems a bit neurotic at this time of the year, but she means what she says. Stay as long as you need, Enjolras.”

 

Again Enjolras bowed his head, blush covering his cheeks. He had never met people so warm before. After eating, Grantaire brought blankets and pillows to the couch. He set up a nest on the couch by the tree. Enjolras watched from one of the corners of the room, Lamarque butting his head against the blond's knees. Adrienne saw how closely the other was watching her son work, and smiled. Grantaire had been alone for so long in his life, he deserved someone who would adore him so. With a yawn, she returned to her room. Within the hour Enjolras was asleep by the tree. Grantaire had offered to turn it off, but Enjolras had liked watching the lights twinkle. He had promised to turn it off, but he had fallen asleep. At three in the morning, Grantaire came down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Afterward he walked up to the back of the couch and looked down on Enjolras' sleeping form. The blond looked so at rest. Grantaire had to refrain from running his fingers through the other's silky curls.

The next morning, Enjolras received a call from his father. From Grantaire's perspective, it sounded bad. There was quite a lot of cussing on Enjolras' part, and it sounded like yelling. When Enjolras hung up there was a tired look in his eyes. “Did your parents really mean I could stay as long as I liked?”

 

“Yes,” Grantaire's brow furrowed. “What's wrong, Enjolras?”

 

“Apparently my father had gotten the weather report ages ago. When he found out about the storm, he decided to fly to Italy without me. He said he had already paid for the vacation, and he hated to lose the money,” spat Enjolras.

 

Grantaire's shoulders slumped. “That's horrid.”

 

“That's dad.”

 

“Yeah. I'll go let my mom know. Don't worry, Enjolras. We won't kick you out for Christmas.”

 

The next few days Enjolras spent time exploring the home he was staying in. It was much more decorated then any home he had been to before. Upon asking Laurent he found that he and Adrienne had spent a few years in America, and that this is how the American household was typically decorated. In the living room, Enjolras soon unearthed an old piano. Adrienne had protested, saying the poor thing was out of tune, but Enjolras found that he liked the slightly melancholy sound it gave off. He would spend hours playing old carols. At first Grantaire was delighted, but soon he became worried that his friend was spending too much time inside. Enjolras spent hours pouring over old books, or really any books he could find. He alternated between that and playing the piano.

 

“Come to the Christmas Market,” Grantaire invited Enjolras.

 

“What?”

 

“Look, I know you don't really need to get any of us gifts. But you've been in this house too long.”

 

Enjolras' lips quirked into a smile. “I think I should get your parents something. To thank them for their hospitality.”

 

“You're coming?!”

 

“What did you not expect me to accept?” asked Enjolras. His old smile fully returned.

 

Grantaire blushed a bit upon seeing it. “Well...no. It's just you've refused to leave the house any other time I offered.”

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes as he stood to get his coat. “Yes because grocery shopping is so much fun.”

 

“It was a way to get you out of the house!” exclaimed Grantaire.

 

The two of them exited the small home. The roads had finally been plowed. Grantaire had yet to get his car towed, so they went in his father's car. The ride to the center of the town was quiet. There was nothing much to look at, the streets were empty and snow covered everything. As they neared the center of Strasbourg there was more and more traffic, but Grantaire eased his way through artfully. He hummed a hymn tapping his hands on the wheel.

 

“You don't mind the traffic?”

 

“No. It's Christmas, why wouldn't I be happy? All these people are in a rush, but if they were patient they too could find happiness.”

 

Enjolras just stared at his friend in semi-awe. For as long as he could remember his mother had complained of the holiday traffic, but here was someone who didn't mind. Grantaire parked. The two of them made their way from the dim parking lot towards the shining lights. They walked about the slim roads with buildings on each side. Strung above them were lights in the shapes of stars. The whole atmosphere smelled of sweet wine, spices, and fir trees. The lights above cast golden shadows upon the people below. The bite of the air wasn't nearly as bad as Enjolras had expected. In the distance he could see the cathedral. Even more light was cast on it making the whole building illuminated. Across the way they spotted a giant Christmas tree, lit in blue and silver lights.

 

“This is gorgeous.”

 

“Yeah.” Grantaire couldn't help but notice how soft the lights looked reflecting off Enjolras' hair. Or how bright the other's eyes shone. If he had thought his friend looked like Apollo, it was nothing compared to now. His skin practically glowed in all the light. 

 

They continued walking around. Mostly they looked at things, talking to vendors. Grantaire offered to buy Enjolras a drink, and he accepted. Soon enough he had his hands wrapped around a warm cup of mulled cider. By the end of the evening, Grantaire had bought a scarf for Eponine, toy soldiers for Gavroche, a few things for his friends at Uni, and an ornament for Azelma. Enjolras had ended up getting some homemade candles for Adrienne, and a hand carved pocket knife that Grantaire swore his father would like. He began to plan out what he wanted to give to Grantaire. They drove home, exhausted but tired.

 

Enjolras spent the next few days playing Christmas music, as it seemed to please Adrienne. She kept going on about how marvelous he was, and how sweet. It had been awhile since Enjolras had heard such praise. He liked how happy Adrienne seemed. She had the same smile as Grantaire...which melted away at Enjolras' heart. His spirits were the highest they had ever been. 

 

On Christmas eve, everything was ruined. He got a snapchat in the morning that brought down his entire day. Grantaire had gone out shopping with his parents, and Enjolras was alone in the house. He glared down at his phone, angry tears making their way to his eyes. He walked over to the piano, his heart breaking. He slammed open the lid, and dropped himself onto the bench. Slowly his fingers began to play a sad tune over and over. He rested his head on his arm, glaring at the saved photo. 

 

When Grantaire returned home, this is how he found his friend. The first thing he noticed was the song. It was a repeated phrase from the ballet Giselle. It was haunting, and immediately Grantaire knew there was something wrong. He lay a hand on Enjolras' shoulder, the other only flinched slightly, but continued to play.

 

“Enjolras. What's wrong?”

 

His friend remained taciturn.

 

Grantaire fell to his knees before his friend, making it so that Enjolras had no choice other than to face his friend. “Enjolras, what happened? What is it?”

 

Enjolras merely glanced at his phone, his eyes were dead. Hesitantly Grantaire reached for it. When he opened the phone he found himself staring at a picture. The message read “Merry Xmas xoxo.”

 

It was a photo of Marius and Cosette by a warm fire, holding mugs of hot coffee. Cosette was blushing madly, either from the heat or proximity of her boyfriend. Marius was smiling. Grantaire got the opinion that Marius smiled a lot like that...just never at Enjolras. He set the phone down and sat next to Enjolras on the piano bench, his legs facing the opposite way.

 

“Is there anything I can get for you?” Grantaire asked.

 

Enjolras shook his head petulantly. His eyes were puffy and red from crying. He must of looked like a mess, and he definitely felt bad for pushing all his stupid drama onto Grantaire. His fingers continued to mindlessly play out the melody, by this point he didn't even need to think about what the notes were.

 

Grantaire laid a roughened hand over his friend's fingers to halt the playing. “Enjolras. Look at me please.”

 

When he did, Enjolras' lips were met with Grantaire's. The other's scruff tickled Enjolras, and without taking note of when it happened, Enjolras opened his mouth to Grantaire. His hands pulled away from the piano, one tangled itself in Grantaire's dark mane, the other went for his shirt collar pulling the other closer. Enjolras could feel the heat of one of Grantaire's hands on his neck, the other tracing the his spine. Finally they pulled a part for air. Grantaire leaned his forehead on Enjolras'. “Know that you deserve better than that arsehole. Okay? Remember that.”

 

Almost reluctantly Grantaire rose. He walked away doing his best to not look behind him. Enjolras sat there frozen, trying to comprehend what had just happened. His broken heart began to swell. He thought back to all the moments between the two of them. Could it be that Grantaire really loved him, even after finding out about his damaged past and his love of his best friend? Enjolras' head spun, he was sure that Grantaire was straight...after talking about beautiful ballerinas and the like. Unsteadily Enjolras rose and went to search for his friend. He found Grantaire in the kitchen humming along to the radio and cooking something.

 

Grantaire turned. His eyes lit up when he saw who it was. 

 

“Do you like me?” asked Enjolras, his voice was scratchy and rough.

 

Grantaire blushed and looked down into the bowl. “Yes Enjolras. I like you a lot.”

 

Enjolras' legs shook. “But why? I thought you were straight!?”

 

Grantaire let out a snort. “What would make you think that?”

 

“You talked about beautiful ballerinas...I figured you meant girls,” Enjolras said softly.

 

Grantaire smiled. “They were beautiful. I've dated both men and women, Enjolras, and I have thought every one of them has been beautiful. I suppose that was misleading, but didn't you pick up on when 'Ponine thought you were my boyfriend?”

 

“I thought she was teasing you.”

 

Grantaire shrugged. “I'm pan. But what's more important is that I've fallen for you.”

 

“Why? You never answered my question. Why me?”

 

Grantaire set down the bowl and walked over to Enjolras. He put a hand on each shoulder and looked into Enjolras' eyes. “Because you are smart, and beautiful. You want to change the world. You play piano beautifully, and you swear like a sailor. I've spent so much time with you Enjolras, and I have fallen for you.”

 

Enjolras blushed. “But I don't smile as much as Marius, and I'm not gorgeous like Cosette, and-”

 

“Shut up.” Grantaire sighed. “You are perfect just as you are. Marius smiles too much, and Cosette looks stuck up. I like you, Enjolras.”

 

Enjolras could finally believe the other. He grabbed Grantaire's collar and pulled him into a kiss. “I like you. I like you a lot.”

 

Grantaire beamed, and wrapped his arms around the blond. “Care to finish making the cookies with me?”

 

Enjolras was reluctant to leave Grantaire's warm arms, but he nodded. As the two of them worked together Enjolras couldn't help but laugh at Grantaire's poor singing.

 

That evening they went to a Christmas party, where Grantaire introduced Enjolras as his boyfriend, much to the other's chagrin. Eponine stood watching them from the corner, and when she caught Enjorlas' eye she just gave him a devious knowing smile. Enjolras enjoyed meeting Grantaire's childhood friends, they were so interesting and had a lot of embarrassing stories about Grantaire.

 

The next day Christmas came. Enjolras ate a nice breakfast with Grantaire's family, and then they went into the living room to open gifts. There were three presents under the tree for Enjolras, which was more than he was expecting. He received a sweater from Adrienne, a composer's notebook from Laurent, and a handful of sketches from Grantaire. It was this last gift he spent the longest looking at. They were all drawings of him. One was of him playing piano, another was with Grantaire's parents as they sung carols. The third was him sleeping on the couch, the tree behind him. The last one was of him reading.

 

“God, Grantaire, these are gorgeous,” Enjolras breathed.

 

Grantaire blushed heavily.

 

“You finally managed to draw a person at rest.”

 

He remembered, Grantaire thought. “All it took was the right model.”

 

Enjolras blushed.

 

The others opened up there gifts, then Adrienne and Laurent left to give the two boys some privacy. Enjolras took Grantaire's hand, and led him to the worn out piano. Enjolras' hands shook, but he managed a deep breath before playing. Grantaire recognized the melody immediately. It was the Pas de Deux from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. He sat in awe of his boyfriend, just listening. It was a difficult piece of pull off with a whole orchestra, let alone a single out of tune piano. But in Grantaire's opinion it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

 

At the end the silence seemed louder than the piano had been.

 

“You learned that? How? When?” asked Grantaire in a tone barely above a whisper.

 

Enjolras kissed Grantaire on the cheek. “Why do you think your mom kept forgetting things at the grocery store for you to go get?”

 

Grantaire thought back to all the mindless errands he had run. He had thought it was because he didn't mind holiday traffic, but now he saw it as a ploy to get him out of the house. “This was the best gift I could ask for. Thank you, Enjolras.”

 

For the rest of the day the two of them curled up on the couch and watched old Christmas movies like White Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street, A Christmas Carol, and It's a Wonderful Life. And that's when Enjolras realized, he really did have a wonderful life.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as a Christmas exchange with one of my best friends. It is the longest one shot I've written, and if you read the entire thing. Thank you so much. I hope you liked it. I would like to add that the Strasbourg Christmas Fair is very real, and is very famous. I got to research it for French class, and the pictures of it are what inspired this fic. I reccomend that you look it up if you're curious. It's beautiful. Anyway please leave a review or kudos. Merry Christmas everyone!!! ~T.W.o.W.
> 
> (Although this was written last December, I have just now decided to post it on ao3)


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